Since coming out as a skeptic, I’ve found myself accused at times of being a chronic fence-sitter; accused of being someone who is only too happy to tell people what not to believe but bereft of answers regarding what they ought to believe instead. I’m here today to declare my kinship with all of you or, to be more precise, to declare the kinship we all share as skeptics.
You can hear it among children on the playground:
Child #1: “I’ll pay back your quarter tomorrow, I promise!”
Child #2: “You’d better not be lying!”
Child #2 is exhibiting skeptical behavior, with his suspicions possibly informed by prior experience with Child #1.
You can also hear it among adults on the used car lot:
Salesman: “This one has only 30,000 miles on it!”
Customer: “Really? I’m looking at the wear on these seats and I’m wondering if someone might have rolled back the odometer.”
And we can certainly hear the clamor of skepticism all around us whenever elections are drawing nigh, as candidates from a variety of political parties and philosophies are presented to us with the assurance that only they can provide What America Needs.
So if I characterize myself as a skeptic, it’s not much different from characterizing myself as a food-eater; we all do it, but some of us focus on it a bit more than others do.
Both skepticism and belief are, in part, reactions to the ever-changing and uncertain conditions of this planet. One example is the possibility that one is being lied to. A modicum of skepticism is an insurance policy against that possibility. In that case, though, one is dealing with another person whose level of honesty might perhaps be shown in a relatively objective manner. The situation becomes more problematic when we are assessing natural forces that cannot communicate their plans or their motivations in a human tongue. The skies may be blue from horizon to horizon and it may not have rained for six months, but if one concludes that the remedy is a blood sacrifice to appease an angry god, one has made a leap of faith unsupported in its specifics by any evidence outside the minds of the faithful. If all goes according to plan, one may find a correlation between the offering and the end of the drought, and as one may observe, correlation equals causation in the minds of many. Of course, even if the drought should persist, many will continue to believe anyway; they’ll simply go off and find something even more precious to sacrifice. When the drought finally ends, the survivors will feel vindicated and empowered, thus helping to perpetuate the faith.
There appears to be a strong pull among humans toward belief, toward finding answers to embrace. When early humans looked skyward and wished to understand the meaning of the sun, the moon, and the stars, they embraced a host of answers that were, in light of what modern astronomy has taught us, almost laughably wrong. Personally, I think we ought to cut them a break. Put any of us back there and take away all of our modern insights, and I see no reason to believe that we would do any better in terms of explaining these phenomena. The other reason we should cut our ancestors some slack is that we’ve scarcely improved on this sort of superstition in a great many cases.
But there’s another factor in these ancient explanations that is rarely discussed. It would be one thing if these explanations were merely offered as theories or guesses or even just fairy tales. But no, these explanations become religious dogma. They become “facts” and the penalty for denying the “truth” may be dire.
To me, that’s a key moment in the process of theorizing on the world and on our existence – the moment when our theories and fantasies become dogma. The next important development occurs when that dogma is spread and embraced widely enough to become a movement and ultimately a fully realized theology. That moment usually requires a single prophet who focuses and crystallizes the basic tenets and scriptures of the movement. It might be Muhammad, Jesus, Buddha, or Joseph Smith, but the emergence of that prophet seems to be an important part of establishing the institution, though in fairness, such founders rarely live to see their faith hit the big time. Later events and individuals must also come together to turn a movement into an institution.
Rather than trying to turn this column into a comprehensive overview of belief systems and their underlying psychology, I want to focus on another aspect of skepticism that is often overlooked – the notion of self-skepticism.
The more common terms for this would be self-examination, contemplation, or reflection. While this pursuit is something I would recommend for anyone of any belief system, I want to specifically suggest it to anyone who describes themselves as a skeptic or a free-thinker.
The adherents of any belief system run the risk of feeling that they are the recipients of an expanded new consciousness. The exhilaration they feel may convince them that they are duty-bound to share their insight with others and, if possible, to create converts. When referring to the “unenlightened” and even when speaking to them, they may be unable to conceal an attitude of superiority; even of smugness. One may observe these attitudes among people from a variety of faiths, and from no faith at all. Skeptics, you see, are by no means immune from this pitfall.
If I were to offer one small piece of advice to my fellow skeptics, it would be this: If your inquiries lead you to reject religion and its trappings, that is all well and good. My hope is that you have come by your rejection of these things through unblinking honesty and reflection. Perhaps you have not only reacted against the superstition and the dogmas; perhaps you have also recoiled from the superior attitudes of those individuals who feel that their faith may justifiably be wielded as a sword of rudeness, to be waggled in the face of the unenlightened. If that is the case, then make sure you have made this final break with them: Do not repeat that same attitude through the lens of your own skepticism, for you will only give others a reason to disdain you. Remember that we humans as a species are far more defined by what we have in common than by our differences. If skepticism is to be received with respect and dignity, it must present itself in that manner.
On the topic of self-skepticism, I want to close by passing along the result of some personal reflection. I will soon be discontinuing this column as the Chicago Skepticism Examiner. Changes in my professional situation have sadly left me with little time to pursue this type of writing, as one may see by the dearth of postings from me in recent weeks. I have greatly enjoyed my time here. I’ve had a chance to think and write about a lot subjects dusted out of the corners of my brain. I’ve learned a lot and traded notes with some fascinating people. Some of them have agreed with me; some have helped to expand my knowledge of a given topic; and some have thought I was an impertinent fool. I thank every last one of you for taking the time to read and comment. I may yet be contributing a column or two in the next few weeks before I sign off for good, but I thought this would be an appropriate column in which to let you all know my plans, and how much I’ve appreciated the opportunity to share my thoughts with the Examiner.com world. With regard to that sentiment, I am not the least bit skeptical.
Postscript – If you are inclined to pursue other writings of mine, you are welcome to read my blog, which I am linking here. Be forewarned, though, that this is my personal blog. While I do occasionally write on skeptical topics, you are just as likely to see photos of my cats, or to hear me expounding upon the people and places of Chicago.